Chapter 8

In the days that followed, Kane grew unusually quiet.

He trailed me like a shadow. In the kitchen. In the garden. Even outside the damn bathroom door. Wherever I went, he was there. Watching. Waiting.

When Lilian tried to speak to him, he didn’t even bother replying—just threw her a cold, disinterested glance. Jennifer approached him too, but he brushed her off with some flimsy excuse.

Then, one morning, he handed me a sleek black and gold invitation.

“Our tenth-year high school reunion,” he said. “You always wanted to go, remember?”

Ten years ago, he’d shown up on my front porch holding basketball tickets above his head like a lovesick fool.

“Coming or not?” he'd asked, cocky and smiling.

I said yes back then. And I said yes now. Because I knew…This was the last time.

At the reunion, we were the couple everyone talked about—still together, still perfect, they said.

A few even laughed about the time Kane waited in line overnight just to get me a signed record.

He smiled, his arm wrapped tight around my waist, fingertips grazing my hip—possessive, almost desperate. A mix of comfort and control.

Then the class president, always the sentimental one, stood up and held out a rusty old metal box.

“Remember the time capsule?” he grinned. “We wrote letters to our future selves the day we graduated. It's time to open them.”

I found mine. I was just about to tear it open when Kane’s phone rang.

The screen lit up with a name I didn’t even need to read twice. Lilian.

Kane froze. Our eyes met. I didn’t say a word. He stood there for a beat, torn, then finally turned and stepped outside to answer it. When he came back, his face was pale.

“Lilian fell,” he said quickly, too quickly. “They took her to the ER.”

I stayed seated, staring up at him in silence.

“I’ll just take her to get checked out,” he rushed on. “I’ll be right back, I promise—it’ll be quick.”

I tilted my head, voice flat. “Go. She’s carrying your pup. That matters.”

He looked almost… relieved. Pressed a kiss to my forehead like everything was still fine, like I hadn’t seen straight through him.

Then he left. I didn’t look back.

Instead, I walked over to the time capsule and pulled out his letter—Kane's letter to himself, written ten years ago.

The paper had yellowed with time, but his handwriting was still strong. Still his.

“To Kane, age 26. You better be with Julia by now. If you’re not treating her right, I swear I’ll come back and punch you in the face. She has stomach issues—make sure she drinks warm milk. She wants to see the northern lights. Take her. Don’t make her wait. She’s afraid of the dark. Afraid of storms. Hates cilantro. Don’t forget. And one last thing—If you can’t love her the way she deserves, let her go. Don’t you dare hold her back.

Julia—If the me from ten years in the future disappoints you…Leave. Don’t forgive me.”

I stared at those words, my fingers trembling as I read them over and over. He knew me better at sixteen than he does now.

I whispered softly, tears blurring my vision, “Okay. I’ll listen to you.”

After the reunion, I hugged each of my old classmates goodbye. The class president clung to me, eyes damp.

“You have to come to the next one,” he said.

I smiled. But in my heart, I knew—there wouldn’t be a next time. I didn’t go home.

Instead, I walked to the Moon Goddess’s altar. Today was the day the bond dissolution agreement would become official.

The elder asked me three times, just to be sure: “Are you certain you want to sever the mate bond with Alpha Kane?”

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice steady.

The seal slammed down like a hammer.

It echoed in my chest.

But this time, it didn’t hurt.

I stepped out into the midday sun and for the first time in years, I could breathe.

That same day, I erased myself. Canceled all my identification records. Changed my phone number. Bought a one-way ticket to Austin.

Kane still thought I was sulking. Still thought I was playing silent games like before, just waiting for him to come and coax me back.

He didn’t know yet.

Didn’t realize it was different this time.

He probably thought I’d cool off and come back after a few days—while he took care of Lilian and the unborn pup.

But what he didn’t know…Is that I’m really gone. Not just from the house. Not just from the relationship.

I’ve erased myself from his world completely. No breadcrumbs. No messages. No goodbyes.

Let him wonder.

Let him remember, piece by piece.

Let him regret—slowly, painfully, endlessly.

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